The Snow is Cold
by purrpickle
Summary: Pezberry. All Santana Lopez wants to do with her free day is enjoy her old theatre with its old movies in peace. But then the very infuriating Rachel Berry shows up and won't leave her alone. Of course, to make matters worse, they get snowed in. Dammit.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **I do not own Glee nor the characters within. My brain's too active for its own good. After superhero!Santana and singing!Santana, I wanted to try my hand at bitchy!Santana - all the while crafting a Pezberry romance. Ohh, I love to challenge myself... *shakes her head, grinning* Warning, rating might go up. *smirks*

* * *

There was a reason Santana Lopez drove forty minutes out of Lima every other weekend. Tucked away in a small city that most wouldn't notice, an old theatre stood. Playing a revolving cycle of old black and white movies, it was funded with money left behind by some Golden Age movie star that had died twenty years ago. It was worn and run down, but only in the distinguished way buildings from the early 20's could do. Sure, it smelled like moth balls and popcorn grease more often than not, and the concession stand left things to be desired, but that wasn't the point. It had a functioning heater, five bucks could get you a full day's admission, barely anyone attended, and though the manager didn't seem to care that the quality of the movie reels fluctuated, nobody from Lima knew about it. Not even Brittany.

Ten years ago, Santana's grandmother had made a tradition of visiting the cinema as often as possible, raising the young girl on Stewart, Garbo, Hepburn (both), Grant, Bogart, Monroe, and many others. Santana never told anyone about the theatre; after her grandmother passed away seven years later, the theatre was Santana's and Santana's alone.

Stamping snow from her boots and slipping her gloves from her hands, Santana stuffed them into the pockets of her parka, pausing to let her eyes adjust to the sudden shift from darkness to light. "Hey Doug," she called to the boy behind the ticket/concession counter as she approached, "I thought you had a game this weekend."

"Nope," Doug shook his head, automatically grabbing a packet of Red Vines, "It was canceled due to the weather. I'm surprised you came today – looks nasty out there." He slid her the box of candy, accepting her money.

"Yeah…" Looking at the flurries of snow that seemed to get thicker as she watched through the glass ticket window, she shook her head. "I almost turned around on the way over here," she admitted, opening the Red Vines and pulling one out, "Glad you're open, though."

"Rain, sleet, hail, meteorites – the Postal Service has nothing on us."

Santana smirked. "Sure. You just wanted the hours."

"That too. Oh! Duty calls. Enjoy the show, San." Having spotted some people entering, Doug hurried to the other end of the counter.

Replacing her wallet into the back pocket of her jeans and heading for one of the free cups of water set out on the counter, Santana's ears caught a familiar voice. She froze, not daring to turn around for fear of what she would see.

" – and I find the limitations of black and white film only enhanced the finished product, as the directors were forced, if you will, to overcome those limitations in quite often ingenious ways. Such as – "

Santana groaned, a sharp bolt of anger rushing through her. Only one person could fill her with such annoyance and fury at the same time. What the _hell _was she doing here?

The pint-sized bane of her existence: Rachel Barbra Berry.

" – already seen these films, Daddy, but there's nothing like experiencing them on the big screen. Now, I know you don't care for Bogart – though how you cannot, as he was a classically trained actor who starred in many widely well regarded movies, I don't know – so I took the liberty to call ahead and get the program for today. …Santana?"

Santana got a strange feeling of satisfaction when she heard Rachel's voice adopt a higher pitch and quizzical tone just for the sake of her name. Didn't make her any less annoyed, but it was gratifying. Placing her best uninterested 'there's nothing you can say to make me give a shit' expression on her face, she turned to the small girl who had walked up to her.

"Berry," she drawled, placing a hand on her hip, surreptitiously slipping the box of Red Vines into the pocket of her parka with the other. Couldn't let the chance of Rachel's big mouth blabbing about the candy somewhere where Coach could catch wind of it.

"I'm surprised to see you here," Rachel tilted her head a little, the hair not caught by the wool cap she was wearing sliding down her face. Tucking the wayward strands behind her ear, she offered Santana a small, shy smile, "Do you enjoy old movies too?"

Santana could see a tall black man talking to Doug a couple of feet away, buying popcorn and drinks. While Doug managed to say something that made the man chuckle, Santana noticed that his eyes were focused mainly on his daughter and her. Assuming this was Rachel's 'Daddy', Santana's policy of avoiding parental units as much as possible told her she had to make this quick.

"As if, Man Hands," she sneered, crossing her arms arrogantly, "Don't get used to seeing me here. I was just passing through the city when my car started acting up. This place looked warm, so I stopped. That's it."

"Oh." Santana could see Rachel almost physically deflate. "I see." There was a slight pause, and then Rachel looked up at her again, her face brightening, "Would you like me to look at it? I pride myself in knowing the basics of automobile maintenance, as it is a useful skill to have. In fact, depending on the make and model of your vehicle, I could – "

Jesus; of course the midget would know something off the wall like that. Santana cut her off before she could go any farther, "I've already called Triple A. They're on their way."

"Oh." Rachel repeated herself, then glanced down at her watch, having to pull the sleeve of her polar tech jacket up to do so, "Did they give you an estimate as to when they're arriving? You should make note of it."

"I don't know – twenty minutes or something. I'm paying them enough money that they damn well get here like the fucking VIP I am." That should be well over enough time to get Rachel into the theatre so she could make a quick exit. There was no way she wanted to share _her_ place with the other girl.

Daddy Berry finished paying for a medium popcorn and two large sodas and made his way over to join his daughter. Santana nodded at him, but kept her mouth shut. If she could help it, she didn't want to have to deal with pleasantries.

Up close, Rachel's father looked even taller, and though he didn't look mean, he didn't look particularly welcoming. He nodded back at her, then turned his attention to his daughter, "Rachel, honey, this a friend from school?"

Shooting a quick glance at Santana, Rachel gave her father a half-smile, "Glee club, actually. Daddy, this is Santana Lopez."

Daddy Berry's eyebrow quirked, and he gave Santana a slightly disapproving stare, "One of the cheerleaders?"

Santana bristled, but she gave him a pointed stare of her own instead of the sneer she would have normally reserved for the people stupid enough to speak to her like that; there was no sense in baiting him, after all, as it would undoubtedly prolong the situation. "Yes, I am a Cheerio," she said evenly, switching her gaze to Rachel, to whom she raised her eyebrow.

Avoiding her gaze, Rachel executed a rather impressive pivot on her heel and grabbed her father's elbow, dragging him far away enough that Santana couldn't hear what they were saying. But she could still read body language, and what she was seeing was quite telling. Daddy Berry didn't look pleased, and his stance screamed reluctance, his head shaking back and forth every so often. Though her face wasn't turned in Santana's direction, Rachel was moving her hands around wildly, her head jerking back towards Santana. Finally, Daddy Berry's expression turned into grudging acceptance, and he shot Santana a mild look before accepting the hug his daughter gave him, handed her one of the sodas, and made his way into the theatre alone.

"Alright then!" Rachel chirped happily as she all but skipped back over to Santana, "I will keep you company until Triple A arrives."

Oh, for fuck's sake. "You don't have to do that. Seriously."

"That's okay, Santana, I don't mind."

Rachel might not, but Santana sure did. Groaning, she resisted the urge to run her hands through her hair and scream. Rachel was too damn stubborn for her own good. "No," she lowered her voice, glaring down at the smaller girl, "I'm not requesting. You _don_'_t_ have to. So leave me alone."

"Santana," Rachel started in that irritating tone that gave the impression she was better than Santana and knew it, "I understand that you may feel unwilling to admit that you have to rely on someone – "

_What!_?

" – but really, I have no problem with keeping you company, as well as I'm sure my father would not be adverse to offering you a ride if the weather turns worse as it seems to be threatening to do, causing Triple A to not be able to safely come pick you up."

Santana's eyebrow twitched, and she stared at Rachel.

Taking her silence as acceptance, Rachel smiled broadly and clapped her hands together. "Great! We can take this time to discuss song selections for when school starts up again. While I see no problem with all the contemporary pop hits we've been doing recently, I believe that hasn't been doing as much as it could for stretching the vocal spectrum of our group and achieving optimal effect."

"No, no, hold up!" Shaking her head and waving her hand in the air to cut the small girl off, Santana glared at her. "I'm not sure where you're getting this shit from, but I don't _want _to discuss _anything _with you. Especially nothing that has to do with singing. Got it?"

"But Santana, I'm sure we could find a song that would compliment your vocal strengths and help you work in areas you're lacking. While not on par with my own voice, of course, but no less worthy of mention, I'm sure with time and practice, you'd become a stronger singer – "

"_Berry_!" Santana growled, taking a step forward to physically invade Rachel's space, "I swear to _god _that if you do not turn around and march your freakishly tiny body into that theatre and leave me the fuck alone, you will not survive long enough to see the next glee class."

Either from stubbornness or fear, Rachel didn't move, her mouth snapping shut with a click and head tilting up. If she wasn't so angry, Santana would have given her props. Instead, the lack of response only made her blood boil. "Alright, that's _it_ – "

"Santana," Rachel spoke up quietly, effectively cutting her off mid-rant, "Is something bothering you?"

Santana's mouth dropped open, and she drew in a deep breath of air, crossing her arms so she didn't do something as stupid as grabbing Rachel's arms and squeezing, "Oh, so _now _the dwarf gets it. Slow, much?"

Narrowing her eyes but not rising to the bait, Rachel shook her head, resting the hand not holding the soda gently on her hip, "Am I mistaken?"

"Oh my _god_. Of course you're not fucking mistaken! You! _You _are bothering the _hell _out of me, and you know what? I'm going to take the high road and get the fuck out of here." Santana whirled around, starting to stomp her way towards the door.

Rachel's boots made loud clomping noises as she hurried after her, "You can't _walk _home!" she all but shrilled out, "That's just foolish – "

"_No_, you know what's _foolish_?" Santana swung around, nailing Rachel in her spot with a harsh glare. "It's someone who, for no good reason at all, insists on _pestering _me incessantly. Tell me, Berry. Do you want a one-way ticket to the ER?"

Rachel's eyes widened, but she swallowed and shook her head, chin raising in confidence, "Though you may be threatening bodily harm, I have no reason to believe you would follow through. You wouldn't do that, Santana."

Santana grinned toothily, walking right up to Rachel, pushing her face close enough to the small girl's that she could see the quivering of her eyelashes. "Oh really," she purred dangerously, "You know this?"

Rachel's breath hitched, her eyes getting bigger and bigger, body ramrod straight. She bit her lip, nodding jerkily, quickly glancing around and trying to surreptitiously look behind her, probably judging how close the counter was to her back so Santana couldn't corner her.

"Nuh uh." Grabbing Rachel's chin, Santana pulled her back to face her, "You challenge me, you face me."

Rachel's breath skittered across Santana's skin, and out of nowhere, she realized just how charged the situation was. God _dammit_. She couldn't pull back without losing control of the situation and though Rachel annoyed her more than anyone else, she was correct – Santana truly didn't want to hurt her. She did, however, want to assert her authority.

"Santana…" Rachel trembled, the drink in her hand pressing against Santana's hipbone. "I… I'm not challenging you…"

Santana licked her lips. Being this close to the other girl, skin warm under her fingers, another thought entirely hit her. Eyes dipping to take in partly opened pink lips mere centimeters from her hand, Santana felt her anger start slipping into another emotion, just as equally fiery.

"…I… I'm just tr-trying to _help_ you."

Santana growled. Rachel did _not _know when to _shut up_. Sliding her hand up and around Rachel's cheek, the other coming up to palm the other side of her head, pressing firmly against the wool cap she was wearing, Santana glanced back at Rachel's face when the smaller girl gasped. Large dark eyes swimming with uncertainty, fear, and a healthy amount of anger closed as Santana slipped her fingers under warm fabric. With a cascade of dark hair, one firm tug pulled the hat off.

It was petty, sure, but with the acquisition of Rachel's hat, Santana had given herself a valid reason for stepping back without feeling like she'd given up something. Taking in the bright purple fabric and Rachel's attempts at getting her newly released hair to obey gravity, a smirk curled over her mouth.

"Santana – what – you – What are you, _five_?" Spluttering, Rachel recovered quickly. She glared imperiously at Santana, red staining her cheeks, "Please, this childish behavior isn't warranted. I would appreciate my hat back."

Santana crossed her arms, the hand holding the hat tauntingly bobbing up and down. "Will you leave me alone?"

Rachel took a deep breath, and Santana could _see _the rant bubbling up within her. She toyed with the idea of letting the short girl erupt, enjoying the red color that was spreading over her face and the part of her neck visible, but wondered if the consequences would be worth it. However, the choice was taken away from her when Doug hurrying over to the two of them distracted her from staving off the verbal deluge.

"Santana Lopez! I _cannot _believe this level of utter childishness you are exhibiting! Frankly, I do _not_ understand this unwillingness to start a dialogue with me, _nor_ to allow me to help you with your trouble! I may have been assuming too much when I offered to keep you company, because goodness knows you would never _deign _to hang out with me willingly. I'm _sorry_ I presumed so much in wishing to help you." Righteous sarcasm dripped off her words; Santana was almost impressed.

But Rachel wasn't done, "However! That does not excuse your reprehensible behavior, to which I would appreciate an explanation. Of course, knowing you, and your irrational need to subscribe to the pathetic high school hierarchy and all the rules that entails, I am sure I shall not get any. "

Knowing just the right way to respond that would drive the small girl crazy, Santana looked down, studying her nails. "You done yet, Berry?" There was no reason in acknowledging the fact that some of her words had actually cut. That would only give the dwarf some ammo she didn't deserve.

A patented Rachel Berry storm off was prevented when Doug swooped in, probably waiting for a pause long enough to enter unscathed. "San!" he glared at her almost sheepishly, obviously been sent by his boss, "Is there a problem here?"

Groaning internally – she really _hadn_'_t _meant for things to escalate to where they had; why couldn't Rachel have just left her the fuck alone? – Santana smiled sweetly at her friend. "No, it's quite alright, Doug. Berry here just suffers from Tourette Syndrome," she looked pointedly at the still red-faced girl, who gasped indignantly; Santana raised a stern eyebrow at her, "_Don_'_t_ you?"

"I do no such thing – !"

"Yup, see?" Santana talked over her, "She just doesn't like to admit it."

The grinding of Rachel's teeth was almost audible. But, perhaps realizing that calming down was the right course of action, she took in a deep breath and started tugging at her clothes, making a sudden jump for her hat that Santana easily dodged with a small sidestep. The attempt might have been cute if Santana wasn't so annoyed with her. Rachel Berry certainly did not give up.

Doug looked as if he didn't believe her, but as he glanced between the two girls and back at the door that led to his boss' office, he offered up, "Well, uhm, just keep your voices down, please," and walked stiffly back to the concession counter. Watching him go, Santana knew she owed him an apology – but on some other day, of course.

Having watched Doug walk off as well, Rachel crossed her arms and turned back, glowering at Santana up through thick eyelashes. She pursed her lips. "I resent the inference that I have a neuropsychiatric disorder."

Jesus, what was with the big words? Santana rolled her eyes, propping her hands on her hips, "Think about it this way, Man Hands. Now you have a valid excuse for the verbal diarrhea that spews from your mouth."

Rachel wrinkled her nose, "_Must _you say such uncouth things?"

Santana snorted. "Wow, you must not go to high school, do you?" She threw her hair back and fluidly moved forward to snatch the soda out of Rachel's hands, "I'm sorry, but we can't all be sheltered little princesses." She took a deep sip, not surprised at all when Sprite spread over her taste buds. She licked her lips and smirked at Rachel: Santana 2, Rachel 0.

Wide eyed at the oral rape of her drink, Rachel stood there frozen as if she couldn't believe what had just happened. Finally, she started shrugging off her jacket, struggling for a bit when the sleeve caught on her watch.

"Whoah, whoah, Berry! What the hell ya doin'?"

"I'm surprised you haven't realized it yet, Santana," Rachel offered dangerously calmly, "Since you insist on stealing my property, I'm saving you the trouble and giving you my jacket willingly." Yanking it fully off of herself, as well as unwinding the matching purple scarf that had hung loosely around her neck, Rachel was quickly left in one of her signature argyle sweaters – Santana snorted at it also being purple in color – and light blue jeans, "Here, you can have my scarf, as well." Then she walked forward and tried to shove her clothing into Santana's arms.

"Hey! _Hey_!" Jumping backwards, Santana snarled out, "I don't want that shit."

Rachel didn't relent, pushing the clothing back at her, "Oh, I'm sure you do."

Santana's grip on the soda tightened as she wended and weaved her way back, not wanting the disgusting purple fabric anywhere near her. "Stop!"

A particularly intense determined expression took over Rachel's face, and she shook her head, "Take it."

"No!"

"_Take _it."

"Fucking hell, Berry. No!"

Mentally patting herself on the back for evading the smaller girl as well as she was – but really, how fast could the little hobbit _be _when compared to someone as in shape as herself? – Santana also fully realized how _stupid _the whole spectacle looked. She was Santana fucking Lopez, and this was beneath her. So, when Rachel lunged at her again, instead of moving back as the other girl obviously expected, she tensed her body and stood her ground.

With a loud 'oomph' and crashing of bone against bone, softness against softness, and a whole heck of a lot of Rachel's hair in her mouth, Santana found herself once again pressed up close against the other girl, only quick thinking keeping the soda away from in between them and still intact. "Is this going to become a common occurrence," she asked dryly, spitting out Rachel's hair and using the back of the hand holding the soda cup to wipe her mouth clean, "Or do you just like ending up in my arms?"

Pushing herself away, Rachel glared at her. "I'll have you know this was your fault," she declared snottily, "As was the last time. It is _you _who seems to want to enter _my_ personal space." Then, as Santana was making sure no hair remained in her mouth, Rachel danced forward and successfully snatched her hat back. "Keep the soda," she gloated, tying her jacket around her waist and slipping the hat and scarf back on.

Santana growled, not amused in the least. Dammit! That plan shouldn't have backfired as it had. If only they weren't where they were; Rachel was fucking lucky she wasn't soon going to have Sprite dripping all over her.

Oh, right. Narrowing her eyes, Santana's gaze swept from Rachel to Doug to the inner theatre doors and out to where her car waited, offering her freedom from the infuriating. Then, as she moved to look at Rachel again, the ticket counter window caught her attention. Not sure at first what she was seeing, horror exploded in her body like a flood of freezing water. "Oh, fuck no!" she burst out, almost throwing the soda into Rachel's hands before sprinting to the closed theatre doors. Planting her palms on the chilly wood, she took a deep breath and pushed for all she was worth. The door budging a few inches before halting, biting cold snow sucked in by the sudden vacuum quickly plastered the parts of her body left exposed. Shoving again, she got nowhere.

About to try again, small hands pulled her back, Doug brushing past her as he forced the door closed. "Well," he turned and tried to smile supportively at the two girls, Rachel having let Santana go as soon as she saw that no more attempts at opening the door was going to happen, "Let me call the snowplow people."

Shivering a bit as the snow rapidly melted in the much warmer air, Santana grunted when Rachel offered her the jacket she'd tried so hard to get away from earlier, using it to wipe herself off. Once done, she distractedly handed it back. Spying a couple of high backed chairs in the corner of the lobby, she made her way over to them, collapsing in the closest one with a groan, burying her head into her hands.

What the hell now?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **Second chapter. Feels like more of a filler chapter, but I hope you enjoy it anyways. *smile*

* * *

Daddy Berry had taken the news of being snowed in surprisingly well. After testing the front doors like Santana had and getting the same amount of nowhere, he'd shrugged and called his husband. "Well, honey," he started, looking over at where Doug and Santana sat across from him and Rachel, lowering his voice a bit, "Dad promised that he'd save his eggplant parmesan for another day, just in case we're stuck here longer than expected."

"That's nice of him," Rachel smiled widely, "He knows it's one of my favorites."

Having heard him anyway, Santana snorted. However, the affect was lost when she shifted in her seat, stomach growling embarrassingly. Talk of food reminded her acutely of the Red Vines she still had in her pocket, but there was no way in _hell _that was coming out any time soon with Berry around. The smell of popcorn caught her attention, and she growled, glowering at the popcorn machine. That was pretty much a no-go as well. Maybe if they were stuck overnight – god no, please, not with the motor mouth dwarf! – but she doubted she'd even touch it then.

She felt Rachel's gaze burn into the side of her face. "Yes, Berry?" she asked dryly, garnishing it with a hint of boredom, meeting the smaller girl's eyes.

Taking a breath and smoothing her hands down the tops of her thighs, Rachel smiled hesitantly at her. "Santana," she started, slightly drawing out her name, then seemingly changing her mind, "No, never mind."

"No, what?" Leaning forward, Santana stared at Rachel intently.

Next to his daughter, Daddy Berry crossed his arms, watching the interaction between the two girls with interest; to be honest, it was a bit creepy. What the hell was so interesting?

"It's nothing."

Santana didn't believe that for a second. "What?" she prodded, taking great pleasure in watching an uncomfortable expression blossom on Rachel's face as her eyes looked nervously back and forth between Santana and Daddy Berry; it looked like she was both afraid and relieved that her father was there. Probably thought of him like a handy buffer or some shit.

Well, Man Hands _should _be happy her father was there, Santana thought evilly, amusing herself with plans on how she was going to make Rachel's next day at school a living hell as she waited for the small girl's response.

"Uhm, San?"

"Yeah?" she replied automatically, turning to look at Doug.

Doug looked nervous and slightly embarrassed. Standing up, he shot Rachel and her father a shy glance, then turned back to Santana. "Could I get your help with something?" he asked, motioning with his chin towards the back room.

Santana had a good idea what he wanted. Shrugging her shoulders, she decided to let Rachel off the hook for the time being and stood up. "Sure." Seeing the wide eyed curious expression on Rachel's face, she raised her eyebrow, made a suggestive smirk, and winked at her, enjoying the look of moral disgust that quickly followed. Daddy Berry, for some strange reason, looked almost amused. Leaving that to think about later, she followed her friend into the back room.

"Alrightie, Dougie," she grinned, "What's up?"

Doug grinned back, hopeful. "Uh, since we're stuck here, you know, for a while, I was hoping you could help me with some of those cheer moves again? Coach was really impressed with me last time."

"Oh, well, sure. Why not?" Santana didn't see any harm in agreeing. The moves she was helping him with were pretty general, and there was no risk he and his team would be any threat to the Cheerios. Besides, it would be something to do that wouldn't involve Rachel's infuriating presence. Total plus there.

Stripping off her jacket and leaving herself in her plain white tee and jeans, she fished a hair tie out of her pocket and quickly put her hair up into her normal high ponytail. She waited while Doug removed his theatre issued shirt, leaving himself in his undershirt and black slacks. "Can't do anything about the pants, but good thing I brought my tennis shoes to change into," he quipped, going over to a locker in the corner and changing his footwear. Santana took the time to survey the room and calculate how much room they could make available to use.

Fortunately, the large table that sat in the middle of the floor looked flimsy enough to move easily. And, as she craned her head up, the ceiling was a decent height. "C'mon, help me move this table," she called to Doug, who was just pushing himself up from the ground.

"Sure thing," he replied, and the table was quickly pushed against the far wall, blocking access to the lockers and random boxes of concession goods. Being such an underused theatre, Santana wasn't surprised there was so little in the back room. That was good for them – last time, she and Doug had used the lobby, and while it certainly worked, there was no way she was going to do _any _kind of physical activity around the dwarf other than within Glee class. 'Sides, the midget'd probably spend the whole time glaring at them while going off on a tirade about how 'cheerleaders were slaves to society' or something self righteous like that.

* * *

Running through and demonstrating the moves Doug wanted to work on was going surprisingly well. Santana had even started to work up a sweat, her t-shirt sticking to her back. She felt smug that Doug looked worse than her; like last time, she'd come to the realization that for all the shit Sue put the Cheerios through, it certainly gave them a leg up on physical fitness. However, her few sips of Sprite had long since been worked off, and she called for a water break.

"Ohh, thank god!" Doug groaned, grabbing his theatre shirt to wipe his face and neck with.

"That's gonna be nasty to put back on," Santana teased him, using her forearm to wipe her own forehead.

Doug made a cross face, but he threw his shirt down. "What about you?" he asked, running his hand through his hair as he waited for her to precede him out of the back room, "Aren't girls supposed to 'glow'?"

"Glow my ass!" Santana laughed, pushing his shoulder, making a face at the sweat her fingers touched, "This, this is hard work."

Tramping into the lobby, she and Doug suddenly quieted when they came upon a sight they wouldn't have expected. With her eyes closed, a look of quiet concentration on her face, Rachel was slowly and surely moving through what looked like a sophisticated ballet routine. The earbuds of her iPod were securely within her ears, the music loud enough that Santana could just make out the strains of some sort of classical music. She looked, Santana hated to admit it, _good_.

"Whoah…" Doug let out under his breath.

Not acknowledging he had spoken, Santana continued staring.

"My Rachel's good, isn't she?" someone commented quietly, and Santana jumped. Without either of the teens noticing, Rachel's father had walked up behind them.

Doug nodded, Santana begrudgingly doing the same a moment later.

Smiling, Daddy Berry looked back at Rachel, "I'm very happy my daughter grew up unafraid to chase her goals. She was the one who begged to take ballet lessons, you know? Four years old, and she just _had _to do ballet."

Getting uncomfortable with the conversation – Santana had no interest in Man Hands' childhood, dammit, nor did she ask to hear about it – she skirted around the man and turned her focus to the cups of water that still sat on the counter. Taking a cool sip, her eyes strayed back to the… _Spectacle _in front of her. She wasn't going to call it anything else.

With a few more moves, Rachel came to a stop. She held her pose for a couple of seconds, lowered her arms, let out a breath of air, and opened her eyes.

Santana found herself with her lips wrapped around the straw of her water, staring unblinkingly back at a surprised brown gaze. Coughing as she spat the straw out, she cursed at the stupid position Rachel had caught her in.

"Santana!" Rachel squeaked, straightening and pulling the earbuds out of her ears, "How long have you been _spying _on me?"

"_Excuse _me?" Santana sputtered, shooting two glares at Doug and Rachel's father who were standing off to the side and out of Rachel's eyesight, shaking their heads amusedly. Bringing her gaze back to Rachel who was stalking forward, she crossed her arms and affixed a haughty look onto her face. "Why in the hell would I want to be spying on you?"

Rachel firmed her lips, coming to a stop just in front of her, arms crossed. "Then why were you watching me?"

"Well, what do you expect, flouncing around the lobby like you were!" Santana glowered down at her, not appreciating the situation she had been put in. There was _no way _she would ever admit she had been almost mesmer – entrance – staring at the dwarf with _anything _close to admir – awe – appreciation.

Rachel gasped. "I was not _flouncing_!" She took an indignant step forward, voice rising in tone, fists now clenched at her waist, "I'll have you know I've been taking ballet for 12 years, am highly skilled, and I never _flounce_!"

Santana started laughing. "Jesus, Berry," she choked out between chuckles, "Do you ever listen to yourself?"

Perhaps to stop the rant that was undoubtedly building up within Rachel, Daddy Berry stepped forward, Doug following behind him. "Well, I thought you were great, honey," he smiled at her, throwing Santana a mild glare that seemed to say, 'you should probably stop laughing at my daughter before I feel like I should intervene'.

Making sure to laugh a couple of more times on principle, Santana quieted, shaking her head. "Flouncing Berry," she muttered, smirking, the image coming to mind almost too funny to not burst out with chuckles again.

Walking around Santana and Rachel to grab his own cup of water, Doug turned back and smiled widely at Rachel. "No, that was really cool," he nodded, "Ignore San here. I didn't think you were flouncing."

Rachel blushed, pink rushing across her cheeks. Rolling her eyes, Santana scowled. Of _course _Rachel would blush at _any _kind words a boy said. It made Santana sick.

"Well, that is very kind of you…" Rachel searched for Doug's nametag, but since he wasn't wearing his theatre shirt anymore, she smiled shyly, "Uh, you."

"Doug Richards." Doug put his hand out, reconsidered and quickly wiped it on his shirt before holding it out again.

Rachel gladly accepted the handshake, tucking hair behind her ear in a coquettish manner. "Nice to meet you, Doug. I'm Rachel Berry."

Okay, now Santana _really _wanted to throw up. Seeing the appraising look Daddy Berry was giving Doug and his daughter was putting her in a bad mood. There was _no _way in hell she was going to allow any romance between Doug and the munchkin! Not that she was interested in Doug herself, but it just… It just wouldn't do.

"Alright! I _hate_ to break things up, but I believe you and I were in the middle of something, huh, Dougie?" Santana said, sounding as insincere as she could.

"Oh, uh, yeah. That's right." Doug shot her a pained look, but she ignored it.

At his words, Rachel's face dropped, and a look like she remembered something distasteful flowed through her body. That morally superior expression Santana had seen many times before appeared again.

Smirking and giving Rachel and her father a flippant nod, Santana grabbed Doug's arm and started trying to drag him to the back room.

Stumbling a little while trying to stay facing Rachel and her father as Santana tugged on his arm, Doug suddenly stopped in his tracks, jerking Santana roughly. "Oh, hey!" he smiled broadly, whirling around to face Rachel directly, "Maybe you could join us!"

"_What_!" Santana yelled out. What the fuck? "Oh, _hell _no – "

But Rachel cut her off, voice almost a shriek, "In front of my _dad_? You're inviting me to – to," her eyes cut to her father, then back to Doug, mouth agape, her voice now a harsh whisper, "_A ménage a trios_? Have you no sense of propriety at _all_? Even if I were interested – which I can assure you I'm _not_ – asking me in front of my dad is – is – it's sick, is what it is!"

Ringing silence echoed through the room.

"Oh god, honey." Speaking into the hand he placed in front of his face to hide what sounded like painful chuckles, Daddy Berry shook his head, "Honey, they're not – Doug told me earlier that he was – uhm, is – is a member of the Roosevelt High's cheerleading team. I suspect he and Santana have been practicing that."

Santana had never seen that particular shade of red on anyone before. Ohh, god, she thought, biting her lip to stop the harsh laughter that was threatening, Rachel would _never _live that down! It was great!

But what was this shit about the dwarf joining them? How the – why the – seriously, fuck no! Rounding on Doug, she glared at him. "What the hell, man?" she hissed, making sure to keep one ear on Rachel so she'd be able to hear when she tried to babble her way out of embarrassment; she didn't want to miss that for anything!

"Whoah!" Doug put his hands up, "Jeez, San. What's the problem?"

"My problem, _Dougie_," she paused and took a deep breath to try to stop herself from biting off her friend's head. It wasn't his fault he didn't know about the freakdom status of Rachel and how annoying she was. "My problem is, just, no. _No_. She's not even a cheerleader! What good would come with her involvement?"

"You saw her, Santana!" Bobbing his head in Rachel's direction, Doug studied Santana, his brow furrowed, "She has rhythm and balance, and she's small enough to be the perfect weight for you to be able to pick up. Honestly, why are you being so _bitchy_?"

Santana flinched. When Doug said it, it hurt. She'd tried so hard to keep her McKinley High persona from ever encroaching on the theatre, but she couldn't drop it _now_. Rachel could bury her! God fucking dammit. And – wait, what?

"Pick her up?" she asked disbelievingly, whipping her head around to stare at Rachel who was still pure red but not hyperventilating anymore, something on the floor seemingly incredibly interesting to her.

"Well, yeah. I would appreciate it if we worked on some of the lifting, and, well, you can't very well watch how I'm doing it if I'm lifting you, now can you?"

But Santana was barely listening to him. Lifting and picking up Man Hands? Sure, looking at her, she had a small body and was quite fit, but to have to be… _Touching _her?

Taking her silence as acquiescence, Doug took the opportunity to leave her and approach Rachel's side. Watching as the two talked quietly enough that she couldn't make out all of it, her heart sunk as Rachel's refusal slowly turned into hesitant acceptance, her father nodding in support.

Feeling like finding the nearest wall and bashing her head against it, Santana shuddered. Dancing with her was one thing, but doing cheerleading with her – the one thing Santana truly felt like she belonged doing – was nothing sacred anymore? First the theatre, then Doug's friendship, and now cheerleading?

Gritting her teeth, Santana made her way into the back room and tried to mentally prepare herself for the agony that was surely to come. Having Rachel's body under her hands would probably be something she'd never be able to forget.

Ugh. Fucking hell.


	3. Chapter 3

Brittany and Quinn were being stupid bitches (Quinn more than Brittany, obviously). Wanting to stave off the impending torture, Santana had hoped that one or both of the blondes would be available by phone, but annoyingly both weren't picking up. Shooting off quick texts telling them to call her _as soon as they fucking could_, she growled and threw her phone angrily at her parka, happy after the fact that she'd actually hit it and not the wall.

Hearing the sound of approaching voices, Santana turned her back to the door and started running through her stretching routine again; she'd gladly ignore Rachel as long as she could.

"…Thank you for doing this."

"Well, I have to admit that I'm dying from curiosity," Santana could hear the excited smile in Rachel's voice, and she sneered, "Though I never seriously contemplated becoming a cheerleader, I cannot deny that even experiencing this glimpse of the sport is highly exciting for me."

Santana blinked. Wait. Hold up. Going to turn her head to stare at Rachel before she caught herself, she scowled down at her shoes. Out of everyone, she never would have expected the annoying midget to be one who called cheerleading a sport. She meant, fuck, it _was_, especially with what Sue made them do, but most people never looked past the short skirts and pom-poms. Suddenly uncomfortable, she rolled her shoulders, concentrating back on the conversation.

"Ah, well, I'm sure you'll be great at it," Doug answered with a smile in his voice, "But don't worry, we'll start you off slow. Right, Santana?" He spoke louder as he came up behind her.

Santana rolled her eyes. "Sure," she grunted, straightening and turning around, "Whatever." Pulling her arms behind her back, she stared unimpressed at Rachel, then sighed in annoyance. "You have anything under that monstrosity you call 'clothing'?"

Rachel's eyes widened a little, and she looked down. Her brows furrowed, and she gave Santana a hard look even as she crossed her arms self consciously over her chest. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" she huffed.

"Aside from the fact that you look prepubescent and like a reject from anything that could be called 'fashionable', sure. You look _fine_." Santana made sure her voice dripped insincerity; it was an art form she'd perfected ever since Quinn and Brittany and she had decided to rule the halls as the Unholy Trinity. She pulled her arms up to bend them back over her shoulder, one by one, "So. Berry. Again. Got anything under that?"

Rachel's frown grew, and old hurt flickered in her eyes before she drew herself up straight. "Santana, regardless of your old taunts about my clothing, is there a _reason _– a _valid _reason, I might add – that you are asking about my current wardrobe?"

Okay, words weren't obviously enough for the annoying hobbit. Dropping her arms, Santana stalked forward, enjoying watching Rachel square herself as she came nearer, raising her chin and standing up straight. The only thing that dampened her amusement was, fuck, she'd have to touch the girl. Sure, she was supposed to touch her – even _hold _her, Santana shuddered – later, but that was for Doug. _Only_ for her friend.

Unceremoniously, Santana grabbed one of Rachel's forearms, tugging it down and trying to ignore the fact that her knuckles skimmed against what felt surprisingly like a nice sized breast. Rachel's mouth dropped open, and she jerked a little, arm tensing in Santana's grip. Her voice rose, "Santana, what are you – "

"Shut it, Man Hands." Frowning, Santana pinched her lips together and started pushing her hand up and down Rachel's arm. The fabric of her sweater bunched and slid up and down with her hand. Just like she thought – there was no way she'd be able to keep a grip on her. "Stand still," she ordered again, "I want to make this as quick as I can."

Rachel stared up at her, arm still pulled closer to her chest even with Santana's hand wrapped around it. Her eyebrows were drawn together, and her lips were slightly open in surprise or for the beginning of a protest. Thank _god_, Santana thought when the small girl finally relaxed a small degree without speaking. Miracles, miracles.

Santana willfully avoided thinking about what she was doing when she took her other hand and placed it onto Rachel's waist. Tightening her grip a little, she began feeling out the fabric there as well. Fuck. Rachel was tiny and in shape. _No_, fuck that! The only important thing was her sweater was too big. _This_, feeling Treasure Trail? This was all kinds of _wrong_!

As close as they were again, Rachel still ended up squeaking and shifting forward, bringing herself even closer to Santana. Ticklish? Rachel freaking Berry was _ticklish_? Oh, god damn hallelujah, how could she _use _this information?

"Santana," Rachel said in a tight voice, "What are you accomplishing?"

Dropping her hand from Rachel's arm, Santana looked down and arched an eyebrow, "Just what I thought. Your sweater has _gots_ to go." Curling her fingers under the bottom of the purple eyesore, Santana yanked it up Rachel's side. Expecting to see a shirt or camisole or one of the stupid training bras the smaller girl had mentioned before, tan skin and fit abs met her instead.

What the… Hot sweet damn!

Eyes widening before she could stop them, Santana snapped her gaze up to meet Rachel's.

Shoving down her sweater and jumping back from Santana as fast as she could, Rachel's face was quickly becoming red. Mouth flapping open, she took a couple of deep breaths, then crossed her arms. "I am willing to give you the benefit of the doubt, Santana. I am sure you were not trying to molest me." Though they were statements, they came out as questions.

Still a little off kilter and trying to blink away the image seared into her brain, Santana brought her familiar sneer back up to her face. "Oh, Berry, _as if_. Like you have _anything _I'd like to see." Oh fuck, what did the rest of her stomach look like? "And it's _your_ fault, you know. If you had just fuckin' _answered_ my question, I wouldn't have been _forced _to look at you." No. No. No no _no_. There was _nothing _about the little midget spore that was even _close _to attractive!

…Oh god. It was disturbing that she even _had _to think about that. No. Ew. Ew. _Ew_!

To save her sanity, Santana shoved her thoughts away.

"Uhh… Hey." Doug cleared his throat, coming up behind the two of them.

…Damn. Mentally wincing, Santana gave Rachel one more arrogant glare and turned around. With an incredibly disappointed expression on his face, Doug gave what looked like a small extra theatre issued shirt to Rachel. "Here," he managed a smile at her, "Your sweater's too loose for Santana and me to hold onto you while we're doing this."

Light dawned on Rachel's face, and she turned her own glare onto Santana, who just scoffed and shook her head. Not _her _fault the dwarf was so fricken' _clueless_!

Sighing and running a hand through his hair, Doug then focused on Santana. "Can I talk to you?" he motioned his head towards the table she and he had pushed aside earlier.

"No, that's okay." Rachel interrupted, drawing both of their attention, "You two stay here. I'll just… Go change." Giving Doug a fleeting smile and ignoring Santana outright, Rachel left the room. As soon the door closed behind her, Doug drew in a deep breath.

Before he could speak, Santana raised a hand. "I know."

"Know what? Because I don't think you do."

"Excuse me?" Taken aback, Santana frowned. True, she'd said that just to deflect the conversation, but she hadn't expected her friend to deflect it _back_. Putting most of her weight onto one foot, she resisted the urge to cross her arms, slipping her thumbs into her jeans pockets instead.

Doug nodded. "San." He dropped his head, an exasperated curl to his lips, "Just tone down your bitchitude while she's helping, okay? You should have heard her – she's excited and _happy _to help. No matter your personal feelings…" At this, he eyed Santana warily, making her frown deepen, "It's better than just sitting around and being incredibly bored, isn't it? We're stuck together. Why not _do_ something with that?"

Dammit, Dougie! He just didn't – wouldn't _understand_!

The door opened behind her, and Santana tilted her head around to see Rachel slip back inside. Smoothing down the form fitted blue t-shirt that had _Avatar _splashed across it that she was now wearing, the action making Santana's eyes draw down while she remembered the short glimpse she'd seen of what was underneath, Rachel gave the two of them a shy smile. "Well?" she asked, still somewhat ignoring Santana, "Should we get started?"

Santana narrowed her eyes. "_Fine_," she bit out, tossing her hair and cracking her knuckles, "Let's _do_ this shit."

Doug snorted, shaking his head again, but grinned at the two girls excitedly, "Sounds good! Rachel. San. Let's get to it!"

Rachel smiled broadly back at him, starting to rock back and forth on her toes, "So what's first?"

Finding her annoying as all hell, Santana groaned internally. Damn damn damn. This was gonna _suck_.


End file.
